


Why don't you take a seat

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [66]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Getting Together, HYDRA Husbands, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marijuana, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Recreational Drug Use, Secret Crush, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 14:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Everything Clint had told him about buying from Jack had given him the impression of something abrupt and quick, money was presented and Jack bestowed you with amazing weed, no fuss no muss.





	Why don't you take a seat

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this on vacation when I heard Omw2la by Asaiah Ziv, not what I usually listen to but I liked it enough to write a fic so there's that. XD

_*****_

_Lets go get high_  
_Jump in my ride_  
_Chill for the night_  
_Stay for the night_

_*****_

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable.” Jack says leading him to a large, spacious bedroom before closing the door on the house party behind them and locking it. He glances back at him with a smirk that should say serial killer to Brock’s flight or fight response but he only catches his eye and turns back around to the room. He’d rather be murdered than go back out there anyway.

Jack’s always been the older guy at school he barely wants to see around because when he does, Brock has to make sure he doesn’t show that he’s drooling. He’s completely his type, or maybe just Jack himself is what he wants. Whatever the case, there’s too many nights in bed by himself as he thinks about him and now being this close, his palms are getting sweaty and he’s not sure what to do with himself. He watches Jack disappear off into a walk in closet, and he’s out of sight within seconds rummaging around for something while Brock continues to linger a few seconds with the idea that he’s with his wet dream, the host of this party, locked together in this bedroom because he asked for a joint. It’s not fear creeping up on him, it’s something else, excitement maybe, he’s unsure as he runs his palms down the thighs of his jeans and licks his lips.

The bedroom is like the rest of the house, pristine and clean (well, prior to the party) and there’s so much room, evidently enough for a small couch by a large flat screen and a king size bed. Walls are lined with book stuffed shelves dotted with a good deal of trophies and he settles onto the black leather as he’s reminded Jack is more than a ruggedly hot face and a minor dealer, he’s seriously smart and a star athlete. The music pouring out from surround sound speakers is low and moody, a few paintings sit on the bare walls but mostly everything is in line with an order..well aside from the black bong on the miniature coffee table.

Jack soon returns; changed out of his jeans and shirt, his hosting duties apparently over and now wearing dark blue sweatpants that hang low and a black tank top. He seems to be ready to lay back and relax and Brock can’t help run his eyes over biceps as he’s lazily stretching his arms across his chest seemingly out of sheer habit to keep them loose while he holds a wooden box in hand.

Brock immediately regrets letting his eyes linger downwards, especially when their gaze meets and he can feel the heat flush along his ears. Jack’s change of outfits reveals a lot more than Brock was expecting, especially when he’s had a lot of fantasies about this guy. Even with their only two or three year age gap, Jack feels older and more intimidating, an air of confidence surrounding him like a second skin and _God_ , Brock feels much younger and insignificant because of it. Like prey for a predator and the thing is, he can’t help but not mind it. 

The box rests on the table and Jack moves past him to a mini fridge near a computer desk, a beer tossed his way and Brock sighs with relief that he’s got a second instinct to catch because of football since the last thing he needs is to embarrass himself. The quirk of a smile Jack has out of apparent approval warms Brock over, watching him crash down next to him, barely an arm’s length away. 

Working up the courage to ask for weed was one thing, this whole situation was another altogether. 

Everything Clint had told him about buying from Jack had given him the impression of something abrupt and quick, money was presented and Jack bestowed you with amazing weed, no fuss no muss. 

Now that they were alone together in apparently Jack’s bedroom and getting comfortable, inches from him, casually drinking beer like they had the whole night to get the transaction over with he was much more tempted to go off script than he’d ever imagined. This close, Jack’s scar is more noticeable; it’s generally hidden away with facial hair and he also picks up on how he has perfect mossy green eyes that Brock’s willing to get lost in. There’s very faint laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and he really wants to see them in effect, wants to hear how Jack laughs when they’re alone together.

“So, Clint told you to come buy from me?” Jack says, Brock’s gaze shifting to his lips and then down to his hands as he twists the cap of the bottle to open it; if he had any uncertainties about his sexuality, Jack’s fingers solidify things for him. His voice doesn’t help either, deep and casual, it’s oddly gentle between them and Brock lets his mind wander about if it’s how he sounds in bed too. 

“Yeah,” He manages to get out before he clears his throat and opens his own beer to take a drink. It’s cool as it runs down his throat and settles him in a sense of familiarity while Jack watches. “He said yer the best guy to get the good stuff from at decent prices. Everyone else is jus out to make money and rip ya off. I don’t need a lot, somethin’ to take the edge off sometimes.” 

“There’s a few other ways to do that,” Jack offers evenly, not looking away. “ _Funner_ ways.” 

Brock’s not sure if that’s an offer or a statement, he’s afraid to ask him to clarify.

“Both together would be funner though.” He counters instead.

Jack stares at him for longer than should be normal and Brock feels the warmth reach his cheeks again as he attempts to look as untroubled as possible. “Well, yeah. True.” He finally agrees before reaching for the box and opening it to reveal a stash of weed while his other hand drew the bong to the edge of the table. 

He loads a bowl and tilts his head Brock’s way. “I didn’t know football gave you an edge.” 

Breaking out in a laugh, Brock shakes his head. “Far from it, prolly the only thing that ain’t a problem on my shoulders.” He raises a brow Jack’s way despite not looking up. “Didn’t know you had an interest in the game.” 

“I don’t.” Is all Jack says cryptically and doesn’t add anything more to it, completely focused on the bong before finally gesturing towards it with a turn of his head. “Since you’re a first time customer, I’ll let you sample your purchase beforehand if you like..unless you need to go back to the party?” 

“Yeah no.” Brock shakes head much quicker than he planned to, shifting to the edge of the couch with his hands pressed together. He doesn’t want to think about what Jack means about the football comment. “That party is borin’ as shit. No offense.” 

“Why do you think I’m here rather than out there?” Jack scoffs. “Do you smoke a lot?” 

“Not Clint levels, no. Jus a couple times a week, maybe some extra on the weekend.” 

“But on that garbage that barely ties you over, huh?” Jack’s smirk tells him he already knows the answer and Brock should hate it but he doesn’t.

“Gets the shit done.” 

“Yeah well, this stuff will get you there faster and keep you there longer for the same price. Trust me on that.” Jack assures him just before taking his beer from him to press the bong there instead, lighter held out as he leans back against the couch again. “Don’t hit it hard right off the bat, enjoy it.”

It’s not Brock’s first time with the stuff Jack sells, he’s taken a few hits with Clint when he’s had some to share but he does admit it’s not a lot because he only needs a little to get affected and at least Barton doesn’t penalize him for it, he actually ends up being more willing to share.

He’s glad Jack isn’t watching him like a hawk right then, nervousness taking over as he stares at the bong. He usually smokes joints or from a pipe and the last time he hit one he took in some of the water. It was the last time he ever wanted to be near one but there was no way he was going to decline an offer from Jack and manages just enough to look like he knew what he was doing, taking it slow and easy just like he was told. 

It’s smooth with a clear flavor of pine and a small hint of citrus. There’s also notes of earthiness that he can’t recognize laced with a punch of spice too which Brock knew would have burned if he took it too hard and all at once. He holds it as long as he can before passing the bong back to Jack and allowing the thick pungent smoke to waft out from between his lips as he exhaled slowly. “Oh, yeah.” He muttered out, knowing there wasn’t going to be much time before it was going to hit him.

He blinks through the curtain of smoke to unashamedly watch as Jack took his hit, motions effortless as Brock admired his profile and he can’t help himself but stare even after Jack looks up. He tilts his head back to exhale, the air around them becoming a hazy cloud as Jack nods and Brock feels the whole situation sinking deep into his bones.

Brock’s unsure of how much time’s passed since they started, the thick bass from the EDM outside the room vibrating against the walls despite the music inside with them still keeping the mood tied in to a lazy evening of nothing. He took another hit from a second bowl, his head rolling back as he draped along the couch, his body and mind completely gone for the night and absolutely swimming in a sea of tranquility he knew he’d never find anywhere else.

“Fuck.” He mumbled out, lips feeling heavy.

“I warned you.” Jack reminded after a snort, taking the bong from him to take another hit before it was back on the table and he was settling in again. He let out a low hum as the thick tendrils of smoke escaped, stretching his long legs out and resting them onto the table and the leather couch seemed to swallow them in as Brock tilted into Jack just from sheer gravity of the heavier weight. He didn’t seem to mind though, leaning into it instead, their shoulders pressed in together and legs meeting.

Brock doesn’t miss the way Jack’s been running his eyes over him for most of the session, a little bleary and eyes becoming bloodshot, gentle smiles creep out the longer they linger together and Brock talks about things that annoy him at school and how useless some of his classes and teachers are. Jack mostly tolerates it with nods and it must be the pot that makes Brock feel like they’ve been friends forever like this. He even gets to things about his dad before trying to physically shut himself up and Jack gestures with his hand to nothing in particular saying he knows the feeling about parents not knowing they exist. 

He attempts to shelf the information for later, when his addled brain wasn’t mush and Jack seems to be okay with everything he says. They bump hands again and have been for awhile, though this time there’s nothing to pass over and Brock lets his hands drop against his thighs as he laughs to himself over the fact that he’s still here and Jack seems to enjoy his company. He feels grateful. 

“I never figured you’d ever be dealin’, thought Clint was lyin’.” Brock pipes in after a beat. “Not ‘til I saw ‘im once buyin’ from ya.” 

Jack chuckles. “Not really much a dealer, I just sell surplus from my cousin. Clint was one of the first guys that bought from me.” He leans in a little like they were whispering secrets. “Why didn’t you think I’d sell?” 

Shrugging was a struggle for Brock and he groaned over it. “You’re too perfect to do that shit.” 

“Oh.” Jack looks surprised and Brock knows it’s the cutest thing he’s gonna see today. “Thanks, I think. Means a lot coming from you.”

Brock can’t help the eruption of giggles that explode out of him, he was aware of how unbecoming it was but couldn’t help himself, their exposed arms pressing tighter together as he clutches at his stomach and Jack shoulders him sideways a little. “I don’t even exist to you.” 

“You do..” Jack’s tongue presses against the top row of his teeth like he’s thinking hard, head tilting upwards. “Tons.”

There’s no way Brock can believe that, his eyes watching the flick of tongue in way too much interest and it’s just then that he realizes he’s been pretty hard most of their time together. While he should be embarrassed, he’s just too high to be bothered to care, though his face does feel warmer than usual. If Jack’s noticed, he doesn’t shine attention on it.

“That’s a convincin’ word.. _tons_.” 

It’s Jack’s turn to burst out laughing, loud and unguarded, those eye crinkles appearing and his nose doing a slight scrunch, he’s beautiful like that. 

A few minutes pass as they sit in comfortable silence together and Jack drops his head back, fingers tapping along his thigh to the beat of the music while Brock stares at him stupidly. Now that he’s aware of how restricted he is, he’s struggling a little to make some excuse to use the connecting bathroom but he also doesn’t want to move from where he is and lose what he’s got here.

Jack looks over at him, eyes glassy and greener than earlier. “Hey Brock, you ever..” He licks his lips and stretches his legs out as Brock tracks every muscle of his body closely. “Do you ever jerk off when you’re high?” 

His voice alone, a little gruff and low, makes Brock groan out. It’s worse with the question because he’s fantasized about this moment, it’s one of his favorite things to do when alone and high, and now with Jack asking and how close they are. He’s quickly forgetting about self preservation.

”‘Course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“..Do you wanna do it right now?” Jack barely whispers out. It’s a curious suggestion, maybe a little shy, but there’s something sexy about it that makes Brock want to surrender to him more than anything else in the world, a want laced into it where Jack still keeps options open for Brock to decline if he wants to. “I mean, if you- ”

“Yeah, shit. I wanna.” Brock interrupts. He feels like he’s been pent up for _hours_ and any relief is welcomed, especially if Jack’s interested too. His hands feel heavy as he tries to hastily undo his fly, a sigh slipping out when he finally manages freeing himself out of his boxers. 

The whole situation is a new level of wondering if he was dreaming. He’s done some stuff with others but nothing that would get him labeled as an expert in all this. Not with Jack staring at him flushed and dazed, Brock’s stomach twisting and chest tightening with the way those eyes were filled with lust and _want_ as he gave his cock a few practiced strokes. 

His eyes drew down Jack’s body, getting a real understanding of how into it he was, his baggy sweats not hiding how aroused he was and it makes Brock feel more confident, catching Jack’s hands balling into half fists as they seemed to want to touch. He flashes him a dopey grin, “Don’t even think about it.” 

Grunting quietly, Brock rubs himself a few times, pressing his thumb to the slit and smearing precum along his flushed cock. He can feel the way Jack’s eyes practically burn into him and Brock can’t help feeling a shiver ride up his spine. He only takes a look over when there’s a rustle of clothing and Jack’s wrapped his hand around his own dick, Brock exhaling a small moan over how much he suddenly wants Jack to fuck him. 

“Don’t close your eyes.” Jack murmurs out with a soft growl.

His voice cuts into Brock’s thoughts and he hadn’t even realized he’d done that, giving him a small nod, lost in the hazy cloud of lust to do anything more. He cant look away as Jack gives his cock slow, precise strokes, somehow seemingly not torturing himself but at the same time making Brock feel like he’s being tortured over how controlled he’s going. It’s good like this, feeling boneless and loosened up while Jack takes his fill of him, makes him feel invincible and his dick only throbs harder when Jack tells him to do something while he’s also touching himself.

“You ever gotten head while high?” Jack asks, tongue swiping across his lips as he leans in a little. 

Was it possible to fall for someone any harder? Brock wasn’t sure as he quickly shakes his head and the beat of his heart picks up in his ears. He gives the base of his dick a squeeze to ease himself down a bit, grunting out slightly as he met eyes with Jack again, wanting so much of that right then and wondering if he should pinch himself.

Jack immediately slides down onto his knees on the floor, Brock watching him in silent awe as he fit in between his spread legs and off comes his tank top, balled up and tossed near the bed somewhere. Jack is all toned muscle underneath, long torso and smooth lines. He’s so fucking perfect, Brock still can’t believe he’s here alone with him.

Lifting his hips when Jack goes for his jeans, his boxers go down with them and the air feels a lot cooler now that they bunch around his calves, and he looks up at him one last time before Jack nudges his hand away and replaces it with his own. It feels incredible, nothing like he ever imagined despite him not being the first person that’s touched him like that. Jack’s surprisingly gentle at first not like he’s imagined with rough hands and dominating demeanor. He could get used to this too and his head falls back with a moan when Jack gets his mouth on him and the brush of his stubble rubs against his inner thighs in the best of ways while Brock tries not to squeeze around him.

For awhile Brock drifts, he wants to cry a little over how good it feels, Jack’s mouth hot and wet and he’s not sure if it’s the drugs making it phenomenal or if it’s just because it’s Jack. The walls vibrate with the deep thumping bass from all the music playing downstairs while the hum of Jack’s own music plays around them and slick noises fill into the air. He whimpers shamelessly to the way Jack knows exactly how to build him up only to tease him out of it and do it again, it’s torturous but there’s a thrill in the way it keeps him at the edge and stacks it up over time. 

It’s when Jack’s hands roam, at first feeling along his thighs and making Brock shiver all over, they slip under him to massage his ass and then the tips of fingers just barely brush against his entrance, that’s what pushes him over. He barely chokes out Jack’s name, hand shoving at shoulder to get him to move back and Jack does, watching in anticipation as Brock cums between them, a bit getting Jack’s chin but mostly hitting his chest.

“Holy fuck.” Is all he can say before he mostly collapses again, completely turned into a puddle of goo, his skin giving off a glow of absolute happiness and his entire body thrumming from the aftermath of the best orgasm he’d ever had. 

It takes him a long slow moment to realize he wasn’t alone off in his bed, that Jack was still there tucked between his legs and he wants so badly to give it back just as good despite how his body suddenly feels. He fumbles a little, clumsily grabbing for Jack no matter how much his arms feel like they’re sinking into quicksand. He lets his fingers slide through the mess across Jack’s chest, blindly heading south as their mouths bump into each other and they begin kissing sloppily, fingers finally wrapping around thick cock. 

Jack kisses him like there’s nowhere else he’d like to be and Brock’s all he wants, making him dizzy in wonder how true that is and he only sinks deeper into Jack’s orbit. He’ll take everything with him, a small sound escaping as he sucks on his tongue and gets a taste of himself, it’s different but doesn’t mind with all that was going on, hot hands pressed to his naked thighs as Brock managed to get a rhythm while Jack ducks his head to the side of his face to taste his sweat-slicked skin. Whatever power he has over him (he knows it can’t be the pot), he wants it to keep going all night and every other one after that.

Brock can’t help the soft rumble of a groan deep within his throat as he feels his mouth all over him, Jack gasping against his lips when he finds them again and he’s cumming soon after, the warm wetness splashing against Brock’s lap and down his thighs. He only arches helplessly when Jack grips firmly to the back of his neck, fingers giving him a small squeeze that he leaned into. They both sank into the leather when Jack nudges his hand away from his dick, panting into the air and holding onto each other.

It takes a little bit for them to make the world stop spinning, Brock feeling himself be pushed around into a prone position across the couch, a hand guiding his feet up and he doesn’t fight it. He mostly welcomes it in all honesty, especially when Jack lays himself out on top of him, face buried against his neck and lazy kisses press along his neck. He’s warm and solid, Brock draping arms around his neck and they kiss again, leg finding itself locking around one of Jack’s as they’re pressing into one another. He’s sensitive, as is Jack as he shudders slightly against his mouth but they both don’t bother to reposition themselves and Brock only arches his hips more like he’s being subtle but Jack groans a little to it and maybe he isn’t as casual as he thinks he is.

“We should totally have sex.” Brock lets out and Jack lifts his head in mild surprise.

“What?”

He only shrugs, then smiles as he lets his eyes close and it feels more like he’s floating now. He’s getting hits of sobriety but then feels himself slip back into his haze and it’s like breathing, he can’t stop the sensation so he just goes with the flow of it. Jack’s hips grind in with slow absent circles that wouldn’t lead to anything yet but feels nice, the skin on skin contact, wants to always keep him close like this. “A little later, when this shit fades off a bit.”

Even without looking he can tell Jack’s considering it. “Do you..maybe wanna crash here tonight..?”

Brock can’t help but smile a little. “Want me to?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” Jack says with a boldness that Brock’s sure he would have taken for face value if he never picked up on the nervousness laced in his voice, it made him feel better, that it wasn’t only him feeling like an idiot.

When he agreed to tag along with Clint to this party, he had high hopes he’d get to at least steal a glance at Jack, and maybe even score some decent weed for back home once he got bored. This situation right now wasn’t at all what he expected, his palm sliding down to feel out the muscles along Jack’s back while mossy green eyes watched him. When he looks back at him, Jack has a small quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips, boyish and happy, it was a look he found he really liked. It was how Brock realized that, generally speaking, it was the unplanned moments that were always the best in life.

“Then yeah,” He reaches up to brush back some of Jack’s hair like he’s wanted to since he’d laid eyes on him. “I’ll definitely stay over.”

“..And what about after that?”

Brock’s fingers glide smooth through dark, sweaty hair. “I’ll stay after too, if ya want me to.” 

Jack smiles, it’s fond. He looks so fucking beautiful. “Good.”

He doesn’t know how long Jack’s been watching him the way he was but it seems like it doesn’t really matter too much anymore. That finally, they seem to be on the exact same page.

**Author's Note:**

> Fyi, pot brownies are no effing joke. >_>;;


End file.
